


Are You Sitting Comfortably?

by KoreArabin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Dildos, Electricity, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, Hoods, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Sebastian invite Paul around for another session of sex, BDSM and more sex, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked by Lady_Ravenclaw_99 to write something involving Jim's specially modified chair from "Heat". And so, being utterly unable to resist a bit (well, a _lot_ ) of flattery, I did.
> 
> The first chapter's pretty mild and chatty, but things will soon turn into the usual dirteh MorMor man on man (on another man too, here) action...

Jim has been looking forward to this for ages. Sebastian has noticed, as the date for their next "session" with his old army mate Paul draws nearer, Jim getting ever more manic and gleeful in his management of his criminal empire, ordering Seb out to sort a number of longstanding hits, and coming up with some really rather inventive ways of punishing any of his employees or, indeed, clients, who have stepped out of line.

And now, today, the big day has arrived at last. A whole evening, night and, if they want, _weekend_ of fucking, bondage and torture, and Jim's bouncing around the flat in a way that makes "Animal" from The Muppets appear the very epitome of British sang-froid and restraint.

"Is everything ready, Sebby? Did you remember the beer? And the vodka? And - what are those things you said Paul likes - the Indian thingies?"

"Yes, Boss. Beer - check. Vodka - check. Tonnes of ice - check. The Indian food with the coconut chutney and sambar - check. It's all under control, so stop fussing. God, you're like a fucking mother hen, clucking about all over the fucking shop. Chill and relax, babes, for fucks sake."

But Jim is too lost in his excitement to hear him. Seb sighs and cracks himself open an ice cold beer. For possibly the millionth time, he pities Jim's parents. If this is how Jim is as an _adult_ , Christmas and birthdays in the Moriarty household must have been a fucking nightmare.

"Sebby - what about the chair? Have you got it all rigged up like we said?"

"Baby, everything is _fine_. We're gonna have a fucking good time, yeah? I've been over everything, and you don't need to worry. Paul'll have a fucking fantastic weekend with us. We've got booze, we've got food, we've got porn. We've got a fucking pantechnicon of BDSM stuff and, best of all, Paul and I have got our very own, personal little fuckslut to play with. What more could anyone want?"

Jim gives him a look, the manic glaze retreating from his eyes for a moment or so. "Ooh, get you, _Sebastian_. "Pantechnicon", indeed? Have you been playing online Scrabble with that man from Broadmoor again?" 

Seb looks hurt. "No. I know lots of big words. I do have an Oxbridge degree, remember, you little git. I could astound you with my panoply of phraseology, confound you with my erudition, or just make you drool over my big fat cock. What d'ya say, Jimmy? Fancy a little facefucking to warm you up, get you in the mood, eh?"

Jim scowls. "I'm off to check my hair. Call me when Paul gets here."

Seb sighs again and wanders off to the lounge to check the chair. Jim's little surprise from a few months ago has undergone a few modifications since then. For one, the black leather recliner now sports quite a range of phallic-shaped attachments, from short, stubby, bulbous plugs, to eye-wateringly large rubber monstrosities, to metallic dildoes for electrical play. The chair is also fitted out with various straps and metal loops for restaint and a pair of stirrup-like attachments for splaying its occupant's legs out and wide apart.

Jim and Seb have played with it rather a lot, enjoying switching their roles as impaler or impalee, fucker or fuckee. And now Paul's going to get to join in the fun with them. 

Just then, there's a buzz at the intercom. "Seb. It's me, mate."

Sebastian presses the security button. "Come on up, mate. We've been looking forward to this."


	2. Chapter 2

Paul swaggers in to the flat, looking as cocky as ever but also extremely well-groomed. His thick mane of auburn hair is cut and styled, his beard and moustache neatly trimmed, and he is wearing a beautifully-fitted taupe blazer over a crisp white linen shirt, dark jeans which are tight in all the right places, and a pair of polished brown oxford brogues. In short, he looks amazing.

"Bloody hell, mate. You won the lottery or something?" 

"No. Just thought I'd smarten myself up properly for our weekend get together. Can't have an ex-officer of Her Majesty's Armed Forces being outdone by a little Irish crim, can we, even if he is fucking loaded?"

"Too right. Come on through, mate. Beer?"

"Yeah - a cold one - cheers, Sebs."

As Paul wanders through to the lounge with a throaty chuckle as he sees the chair by the window, the click clack of outrageously expensive handmade shoes echoes in from the hallway. Jim appears in the doorway, doing a genuine double take as he catches sight of Paul. "Paul - hi! Seb was supposed to tell me you were here."

Sebastian returns with two beers straight from the fridge. "Jim. I was just about to tell you..."

"Yes. He's here. So I see."

Seb has to stifle a snigger. Jim is breathing heavily and practically salivating, his eyes, big as saucers, fixed on Paul, looking as if he's about to come on the spot.

"Jim?"

"Sebastian?"

"Go and change. Into what we agreed. _Now_."

Jim pouts. "What, already? Don't _I_ get a drink, Sebastian?"

Oh, God, it's too easy. Seb strides rapidly across to Jim, grabbing his tie. _Who the fuck wears a suit and tie to a weekend of fucking? Only Jim, of course..._ Twisting the tie around until the knot's at the back and Jim is gasping and choking up on tiptoes, Seb gives him a series of hard spanks, right on the seat of his trousers.

"This. Weekend. You. Are. Nothing. But. A. Fuckslut. _Our_. Fuckslut. You do what I fucking tell you when I tell you, yeah, baby? If I tell you to go and dress yourself up like the desperate little cockslut you are, you jump to it."

He drops Jim to the floor, where he lies gasping. "Go on, then. Off you go." Jim drags himself to his feet and stumbles off to the bedroom to change. 

 

"I can't believe this, mate. He's your fucking psycho boss, and he lets you do this to him? What's going on?"

"He likes being fucked over, mate - remember? We do it a lot - he fucks me over, hard, and I return the favour. He's been so excited about being our fuckslut again, and I've got him some real fucking dirty fuck-me-gear for it."

At that, Jim reappears. He's clad in the briefest of oh-so-tight, butter-soft, slate-grey leather shorts, which cling to his crotch, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. His feet and lower legs are laced into gleaming patent leather Army boots, giving him a rather ferocious, bad boy, appearance. And, to Seb's utter joy, his eyes are smudged with the soft black kohl which makes him look like a dirty little boyslut desperate for sex. 

"Fuck me. What a delicious little slut. I bet he's just begging to be forced down on to his face and get his arse fucked, eh, Sebs?"

"Oh, yeah, mate. Turn around, _slut_ , and show your arse to Paul."

As he does so, the vent in the back of Jim's shorts becomes apparent. "They have a fuck hole in the back, and the front, even though it looks pretty thin, it's full of hard little plastic spikes that dig into his cock and balls if he starts getting hard. Good, yeah?" 

"Oh, fuck me - yes, Sebs! I want him to suck me off - _now_. I wanna choke the little slut on my cock, and make him squeal when his cock starts getting all hard and wet. Come here, slut. Open my fly and suck my cock."

Jim drops to his hands and knees and crawls over to Paul, unbuttoning his fly, and freeing his cock. Paul is a _fucking_ big boy, sporting ten inches of thick, straight, _hard_ cock, topped with a luxuriant auburn pubic bush, untrimmed for this weekend and boyslut cock-sucking.

"Our little Jimmikins is _such_ a size queen. He'll be creaming himself before he's even sucked you off, mate."

"Is that right? C'mon then, _size queen_ , swallow me down then, like a good, dirty, little bitch."

So, Paul's not actually all that bothered about Jim's sucking. What he wants and needs is to wedge his cock deep into Jim's throat, hitting the back of it at different angles, until Jim's face has run through pink to red to purple, and his eyes are wide, gurgling and gasping as he struggles for breath.

He forces his thick, long cock deep into Jim's mouth, until Jim's face is twisted and mashed so hard into the base that when Paul allows him to take a gasping breath, he inhales Paul's pubes, too, stuck to his lips and chin. 

The facefucking continues, unabated, for a good ten minutes, with maximum twenty second breaks between each impalement, until Jim is totally throatfucked out. Jim gags again and again as Paul strokes idly at his bloated cheeks and stuffed throat. He moans incoherently against the shaft of the cock suffocating him: "Please."

But his pleas fall on deaf ears. Paul enjoys the vibrations as Jim moans against his cock, but he has no mercy. He knows, as does Sebastian, that this is what their psychotic little fucktoy wants, and needs. Paul will continue the throat rape until Jim is fucked out; coughing and sniffling, choking helplessly as his mouth is filled with come.

He continues ploughing Jim's throat, reducing the period of respite from being choked down to five seconds from twenty.

As Paul comes, with a cry, hard and long, not only are Jim's lips mashed against his pubic hair but Jim's entire face, his nose twisted and flattened into Paul's belly as pumps gout after gout of hot, thick come into Jim's throat.

For some minutes following Paul's climax Jim can't stop choking and heaving over himself and the floor.

But there's no respite, no mercy. As Jim sinks back on to his heels, able at last to catch his breath, he hears the cold command. "Lick it all up, fuckslut. Then we'll get on to something else. That's only one hole used so far, after all. Time to get all your holes stuffed, baby. C'mon, lick it up, and you'll get your next treat."


	3. Chapter 3

There's no sight in the world more guaranteed to get Sebastian's cock ramrod stiff than Jim on his hands and knees, slurping come up off the floor. "Spread your legs more, baby. Oh, yes, that's it."

With his thighs spread wide apart, Jim's balls are hanging down delicious and heavy, like ripe fruit ready for the plucking, outlined beautifully by the gleaming leather. For a relatively small man, Jim's rather well-endowed, especially in the bollocks department, and the slight movement of his heavy sack as he shuffles forward on his knees is enough to have Seb groaning and palming himself through his trousers.

"Let me hear you licking it up. Touch yourself, baby, and moan while you're doing it. I want to fuck you, babes, I want to stick my cock right up through that hole in your shorts and stretch you out 'til you're begging me to let you come. Oh, fuck, baby, your sack and your fucking hole are just too fucking gorgeous."

Seb strides over to Jim - well, _strides_ as well as one is able to when one's cock is rock hard and twisted painfully against the crotch of one's trousers - and picks him up bodily. "Undress me, baby. I'm going to make you come, but I want you rubbing against me while I play with you. And Paul's going to be teasing you too. Don't worry, slutlet, we'll look after you."

Jim sets to work stripping Sebastian quickly and efficiently, placing his clothing in a neat, folded pile once he's finished. Seb sits back on the leather recliner - the dildo attachment removed for the time being - and sets Jim down facing him, straddling his lap. Taking the tube of thick lube handed to him by Paul, he slicks the crotch of Jim's shorts, rubbing his own erect cock against the slick, slippery leather, feeling Jim's cock straining to get hard on the other side of the thin membrane.

"Ah, Sebby - hurts!" Jim wriggles against him, the friction on his cock making it swell and thicken even as the sharp little plastic teeth inside the shorts bite into his sensitive flesh.

Seb nuzzles his neck, worrying at the delicate skin over Jim's Adam's apple. "That's the _point_ , baby. You only get hard or get to come when you're being hurt or fucked over this weekend, remember? If you want to come, you've got to rub your cock and your balls against those nasty little spikes to get off. And I know you can, babes, because you're a dirty little painslut, and you want to feel my big, hard cock rubbing against you when you scream as you come. So, c'mon, baby, hurt yourself. Rub yourself on those nasty, sharp teeth, and beg me to let you come."

Jim moans pitifully even as he starts to hump himself against Seb's hard length. "Ah - ow - ah - Sebby!"

As he works their crotches together, Jim gasps loudly as he feels Paul's finger probing at his arsehole through the vent in the back of the shorts. Paul presses himself up forcefully against Jim's back, also naked now, his prick hard again and plastered hotly against the crease of Jim's arse. Bending over Jim to lick and suck at his neck and incredibly sensitive ear, Paul whispers, "D'ya want it slow and gentle, or d'ya want me to fuck you hard with me fingers, _slut_? Tell me, and I'll give it to you. All you gotta do is fuck yourself on me fingers and I'll rub you so good inside you'll fill them shorts up with spunk and soak 'em when you come."


	4. Chapter 4

The Jim sandwich, wedged tightly between Sebastian and Paul, squirms and moans as his cock is rubbed at the front and his arse is fingered at the back. Jim rubs his prick hard against Seb's stiff length, moaning and panting, the lube smeared thickly over the crotch of the shorts squelching in time with his humping. "Sebby - baby - hurt me, baby, please...." Sebastian smiles, bending forward to lick and bite at Jim's nipples, looking at Jim provocatively from under his lashes as he slurps loudly, his tongue leaving a gleaming trail of saliva across the swollen, reddened, nubs.

Sucking and biting on one nipple as he rolls and pulls at the other, he uses his free hand to squeeze Jim's balls through the slippery leather, and feels Paul's hand also working on Jim's perineum inside the shorts. Jim is wriggling and moaning and squelching as he rubs harder against Seb's crotch, letting out a loud gasp as Paul shoves two lubed fingers hard up his arse, twisting and scissoring them to open Jim up, before rubbing lazy circles inside him, searching for his prostate.

The effect when Paul hits it is electric; Jim jolts up hard, wailing, before sinking back down on to Paul's hand, trying to ride the fingers as he rubs himself more and more erratically against Sebastian. "Oh, oh, oh, gonna come, Sebbeeeee, gonna come, ahhhh!"

Jim squeals and bounces like a marionette being manipulated by a bag of cats on crack, his cock pulsing and his arsehole clenching around Paul's fingers, head thrown back in ecstasy as he gasps and shudders through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Totally spent, he slumps forward on to Seb, mouthing at his neck as he pants his way back down from the climax. "Tiger. Baby Jaysus. What you do to me."

Seb loves how Jim always sounds far more Irish after an orgasm, and this is no exception. "Good, yeah, babes? Good." He nods to Paul, who proffers his fingers to Jim, making it clear that he expects them to be licked clean. Jim opens his mouth obediently, pulling the digits into the warm wetness, suckling gently, his eyes half closed. 

"Good boy, fuckslut. Now, I'm going to tie you down over the chair while Paul and I get a drink, to give you a little rest, OK? Then, when we come back, we're going to make you come some more - a _lot_ more, actually, baby, until those shorts are full up and sloshing with spunk. And then we're either going to have a little bukkake party, with you as main contributor, or we'll make you drink it all up and lick those shorts clean; we haven't decided yet. Actually, scrub the "or" before the licking bit - you'll be licking them clean either way." 

Setting the chair into a completely flat reclining position, Seb and Paul cuff Jim's wrists to one end and his ankles to the other, restraining him stretched face down, squirming and grunting. Smacking Jim's arse hard, with a resounding _thwack_ , they wander through to the kitchen, leaving Jim contemplating the next round in some trepidation, even as his cock and arsehole start twitching in anticipation.


	5. Chapter 5

Have you ever found yourself completely at the mercy of two big, horny, ex-army men, held down, helpless and thoroughly dominated, whilst they appear to be dead set on driving you out of your mind with slow, deliberate, sexual teasing? No? Well, you probably aren't a deranged Irish crimelord desperately in need of a good fucking over to keep you relatively sane and centred, either, are you? Good, that's settled.

James Moriarty, on the other hand, is currently in that very predicament. Sebastian and Paul released him from the chair, only to drag him over to the thick fur rug in front of the sofa, and continue to play with their delightfully vocal little fuckmuffin.

This time, Jim's been stripped of the come splattered shorts, which have been placed to one side for later, and is lying down with his head between Sebastian's thighs, tilted back to allow Sebby's cock to lie comfortably in the warm tightness of Jim's mouth and throat. Sebastian has adorned Jim's nipples with a pair of wonderfully clever little rings; they look rather like circular gold springs, which Sebastian has worked over the pebbled nubs of Jim's nipples - it took a fair bit of squeezing, pinching and nibbling to get them so big and red and swollen - and then tightened. On tightening, the springs collapse inwards, and sharp little needle-like teeth bite and lock down into the nipples. 

They're not overly painful; Jim would say that the sensation is more one of a constant sharp tingling in each nipple which, combined with the stroking of the little vibrating massager in Sebastian's palm, is making him writhe and buck and moan, begging with his body for Seb to bite or pinch or do - _something_ \- to his nipples to relieve the constant teasing stimulation.

Meanwhile, Paul is busy at Jim's other end; his legs are spread over Paul's shoulders, and Paul is interspersing his leisurely tongue exploration of Jim's crotch with bursts of vibration to the hard egg-shaped massager lodged inside him, against his prostate, and the little bullet vibrator taped against Jim's frenulum, just below the head of his cock. 

If Jim's cock wasn't locked up tightly in a thick leather cockstrap, he'd now doubt have been milked totally dry by now. As it is, all he can do, in between the moans and gasps of over-stimulation and almost-too-much-to-bear-pleasure, is plead with his tomentors.

"Please let me come, pleeeease? I'll do anything. You can fuck me, make me suck you or fuck you, anything! I'll be a good slut. Please!"

Sebastian pushes back into Jim's throat. "Naughty boy. I didn't say you could take my cock out of your mouth. I think that must be at least another half hour of teasing and no coming, don't you mate?"

Paul looks up, his beard and moustache soaked with saliva from his attentions to Jim's crotch. "Yeah. Let 'im stew a bit longer. It'll make 'im beg all the 'arder to come when we let 'im." And so, with another series of garbled moans from the throat-stuffed consulting criminal wriggling on the rug, the buzzing and slurping continues.


	6. Chapter 6

They eventually allow Jim to come only after Paul's given him a protracted, brutal, arse-reaming, held down with his face either forced into Sebastian's crotch or pulled up and back by his hair whilst Seb wanks himself vigorously, rubbing his tip over Jim's face, smearing his precome over his mouth and around his nose. "C'mon, baby, lick it all up and say "Thank you, Sir"."

Jim moans and writhes, spit on Paul's cock. "Thank you, Sebastian, _Sir_."

"Very good. Oh, _very_ good, baby. Now wriggle your arse around on Paul's cock and try to get yourself off before I blow my load all over your face."

It's a deliberately loaded task; there is no way Jim can possibly bring himself off by simple prostate massage, his cock tightly bound, before Seb, with his hand and Jim's hot, wet, pleading, mouth at his disposal. In no time Seb's decorated Jim's handsome little face with ribbons of come, across his cheeks, eyelids and lips, letting it drip into his gasping mouth. 

Pulling Jim up so that's he's splayed face down across Paul's body, his cock deep in Paul's mouth, Seb's face buried between his arse cheeks, licking his leaking hole and sucking wetly at his testicles, Sebastian reaches around to release the cockstrap.

Jim immediately begins to pant as if he's on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, his moans of pleasure interspersed with sobs of release as his cock begins to spasm, releasing a fucking river of pent up come into Paul's waiting mouth.

"Jaysus! Jaysus! Christ! Jaysus!" Jim shudders and sobs and writhes through his orgasm, Paul and Seb not letting up their sucking and licking for a second, until the sensations have tipped over from ecstatic pleasure to painful over-stimulation. Only when Jim is a half-conscious, exhausted, twitching wreck do they cuddle him gently between them, kissing in a sloppy ménage, totally rapt in one another, until Jim can hardly keep his eyes open.

"C'mon, mate - bath." Sebastian and Paul carry Jim through to the bathroom, filling the enormous bath-cum-jacuzzi with deliciously hot water and some of Jim's outrageously expensive, soothing, rejuvenating, key-to-eternal-youth-type-thing bath oil. "Fuck me, what's this?" Paul examines the crystal bath oil bottle, Jim snuggled safely in his lap. 

"It's part of his daily - err - regime - you know, male grooming and all that palaver."

"Yeah, Sebs, I know. I like a bit o' that sorta thing meself. Perhaps your Jim'll see his way to letting me come 'round and 'ave a quick male beauty fix once in a while, eh?"

Having dried Jim off with the fluffy white, freshly laundered bath sheets, they force some warm chicken soup down him before snuggling down together in Jim and Seb's enormous bed. The little fuckmuffin's got to get his beauty sleep, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

The morning dawns dull and grey. Fucking typical spring weather in London - thank fuck they're happily settled indoors, at the breakfast bar, freshly made tea, toast and croissants in front of them. "Mmmm - lime marmalade, Sebby - pass it will you - please?"

Sebastian passes Jim a large jamspoonful of marmalade, and flicks a sliver of croissant flaky pastry at him. "Paul - pass us the butter, mate, please."

The scene around the breakfast table is so wonderfully innocent, so incongruous, Sebastian wants to laugh hysterically. "The little slut should be serving us - get to it, Jimmikins."

Jim pouts. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Moran, it's morning and I'm having my breakfast!"

Seb growls. "Do it, Jimmy, and _nude_ , babes."

Jim doesn't move. 

"Do it. I won't tell you again."

When the little bastard still sits still, silently defying him, Seb quickly decides on the next course of action. He nods to Paul, before backhanding Jim hard across the face, knocking him sideways. Jim flails futilely at the breakfast bar, before landing with a thump on the stripped wooden floor with a breathy "Ooof!"

Before Jim can recover, Seb and Paul are on him, holding him down and stripping him naked. Paul begins fingering their fuckmuffin, dry, as Seb grabs a cock gag from one of the drawers below the breakfast bar. Jim struggles as Seb positions the gag, fat and stubby, and rather realistically rendered with prominent veins and a thick, uncut, head, in front of his face. "Open your fucking mouth, baby, or I'll cut it open."

Jim huffs and pouts, but does as he's told. Seb pushes the cock gag in to the hilt, filling Jim's mouth and, from the slight retches and heaves, nearly hitting the back of Jim's throat. Satisfied that the fuck gag is in position, Seb fastens a leather strap over Jim's mouth, buckling it tightly at the back of his head. 

Jim struggles some more - a lot more - as they drag him back through to the living room. They haven't used the _chair_ yet, but Jim's far too smart to think that they won't. But, writhe, and wriggle, and twist, as much as he can, he cannot alter the inevitable result: Jim sitting, strapped to the chair, his wrists buckled into the restraints at the back of the seat, his ankles similarly cuffed to the legs, and thick straps secured aroung his torso so that he can't try to shimmy off of the chair seat.

Seb nods to Paul, who makes a few adjustments beneath the seat, and Jim's eyes widen as the tip of the thick, cold, dildo nudges against his defenceless anus.

"Mmmmm, baby, gonna stretch you out, first, get you ready for the speculum. I've got it ready for you in the fridge, just like this little dildo. What does it feel like, Jimmy, pushing up into your hot, tight little hole?"

Jim just stares daggers at the both of them, reduced to incoherent harumphing around his cock gag. "I think he said he needs a good seeing to. Whatcha think, Colonel?"

"Yeah, I reckon he said he wants his arsehole stretched out, Sebs. Shall I do the honours?"


	8. Chapter 8

Jim practically effervesces with tension and barely suppressed rage as the slick, blunt end of the cold dildo begins to slide up into him.

Seb leans in, tousling his hair and licking at his gagged mouth. “Hey, babes, don’t be so uptight. Paul’s not gonna shove it up into you. No, Jimmy, we’re gonna push it up your arse nice and gently, so you get to really appreciate the sensation of all those tight little rings of muscle inside you giving up and stretching out to let it in. So you really savour the experience of being totally stuffed full of cold, hard metal. 

Who knows? Perhaps when you’ve been sat on it a while, warmed it up a bit, you might want to try riding it, giving yourself a good fucking and getting your hole all stretched out and sloppy like the dirty little fucker we know you are.”

With a grunt, Paul forces the last couple of inches into Jim, who gurgles around his gag and jiggles in his restraints, trying desperately to accommodate the impalement; it’s too much, too fast, whatever his bastard tiger just said. Jim grinds his arse down on to the dildo, fuelling his anger. He’s going to fucking punch – no – he’s going to fucking _cut_ that smug expression off of Sebastian fucking Moran’s fucking smug bastard face when he gets free. 

And his little army mate. Yeah, so Paul’s hot and he’s got a body and a _cock_ to _die for_ , but Jim’ll fucking fix him too. And now they’re talking quietly in the kitchen and Jim can’t hear what they’re saying, and they’ve fucking left him here mounted like some sort of bizarre fucking trophy whilst they giggle together like a pair of fucking schoolgirls.

Jim continues in this vein to himself for what seems to him hours, but in fact is only about twenty minutes. When Seb and Paul return from the kitchen holding, somewhat ominously, a covered silver serving tray between them, Jim’s still grinding himself on the dildo and breathing loudly around his gag.

“Alright, Jimmikins? Enjoying yourself? Certainly looks like it, babes, all that bumping and grinding and heavy breathing. We’ve got something even more enjoyable lined up for you, but perhaps you’d rather we left you to it?”

Knowing Jim’s not going to give them the satisfaction of a response, Sebastian decides to force to the issue. Grasping Jim’s testicles, he rolls them gently in his fingers before pinching just hard enough to make Jim snort in surprise and try to jerk away. “So do we leave you to it, babes? Do we leave you here all day frigging yourself stupid while we go and watch the rugby down the pub? You decide, baby. Just nod or shake your head.” 

Jim considers. As much as he is loathe to effectively agree to whatever Seb’s dreamed up for him next, the prospect of sitting all day on a dildo on his own isn’t exactly one he relishes. Reluctantly, therefore, he slowly shakes his head.

“Aww, well done, baby! I promise you won’t regret it. Much.”

oOo

Another feature of the chair is that it can be tilted up and the aperture in the seat widened, for better access to the victim’s crotch and arse. And so Jim finds himself tilted backwards at about 45⁰, his legs in the air and his arse and perineum on full display and totally vulnerable to whatever Seb and Paul decide to inflict upon him. The dildo has been removed, thankfully, but that’s cold comfort given Seb’s earlier mention of a fridge-chilled anal speculum, and there are other implements on the tray that Jim can’t quite see from his reclined position. However, the fact that Paul’s snapping on latex gloves is giving him a reasonable idea of what they might have planned.

Jim swallows nervously as Paul picks up one of the implements from the tray. A sound. Oh _fuck_ , a bloody long sound at that, with a little bulb at the tip. Spreading surgical lubricant along from the bulbous end of the sound, and taking Jim’s cock in hand and drizzling more _fucking cold_ lube over it, Paul gently eases the tip into Jim’s slit, letting gravity take over as it sinks, slowly, _inexorably_ , into his urethra.

Jim gurgles around his fuckgag, his knuckles white as he grips the chair’s arms, his arsehole clenching as the tip of the sound settles against his prostate. His pleasure is somewhat marred though by Seb picking up the anal speculum and smearing it with lube, ratcheting the three blades open and closed as he does so, watching Jim’s face intently as Jim simply stares at the expanding and contracting metal. Three blades? Where the fuck did Seb get that fucker from?

Spreading yet more lube around Jim’s still stretched and swollen arsehole, Seb eases the cold metal inside him, letting the blades sink deep into his rectum. Then, slowly, Sebastian begins to dilate his captive boss’s anus, stopping only when Jim is stretched out beyond humiliation and Seb can see inside enough for what he has planned next.

Taking the last item of equipment from the tray, Seb inserts it through the wide open blades of the speculum, nodding to Paul as he switches it on. Jim’s reaction is nothing short of electric as the flared head of the massager stimulates his prostate, whilst the bulbous end of the rosebud sound vibrates against another spot on the sensitive gland. Jim’s eyes roll back as he gasps around his gag and jerks helplessly in his restraints.

Jim begins to struggle, as much as he can, strapped so effectively to the chair, his shouts only just muffled by the gag and his head thrashing from side to side, suddenly stilling before convulsing, every muscle in his body taut and the tendons in his neck corded with tension. Sebastian realises that Jim has just come, but been unable to ejaculate fully with the sound still buried to the hilt in his cock.

The cycle repeats itself again; the thrashings and convulsions slightly weaker this time, and then a third cycle, at the end of which Jim is hardly moving, lying back limp in his restraints and breathing harshly around the gag. At a sign from Seb, Paul slowly withdraws the sound from Jim's urethra as Seb removes the massager and speculum. The torrent of pent-up come that floods from Jim's cock as the bulb of the sound pops out astonishes both of them.

Seb unbuckles the gag and releases Jim from the chair. The little Irishman is completely spent, exhausted by three of the most violent and powerful climaxes he's ever experienced, which is saying a lot, given Jim's insatiable appetite for sex and sensation.

They lay him down on the rug in front of the sofa, Paul stroking feeling back into Jim's bruised wrists and ankles, Seb cupping his head gently and trickling cool water into his mouth. Once he has his breath back, Jim squints up at the two men ministering to him, his voice hoarse. " 'king fantastic, Sebby, Paulie, but I'm still gonna fuckin' slice your fuckin' faces off for it."


End file.
